Why do I give people The power to hurt me How can I not change Even after thousands And millions of heartbreaks I'm still picking up the pieces From when my heart broke last time I'm trying to piece them together But, one or the other keeps hurting me I wonder sometimes How my heart has the capacity To feel things, even after all this time Always, immediately responds that tiny voice inside my brain. (I'm such a Harry Potter nerd) I do not know If I should laugh or cry This has become a pattern This breaking of hearts I want to cry For all the love I've given But never can seem to get back Maybe, that's the whole point To learn that love Is only to give Not to be gotten back To become strong Despite being vulnerable Maybe that is compassion That is how kindness Can and should change the world. I always end up Asking more questions Than finding answers Maybe, that's how life is As long as we ask The right questions And try to find answers We stumble upon truths That are both powerful and transformative That changes us from the inside That gives us our superpower (To become an Avenger Or a member of The Justice League) To help and hold To hope and give hope That despite everything We are worth saving Our stories are worth sharing And this life is worth loving And our love is worth giving.
Happy Valentines (or is it?)!
Oh what’s this game Played with beating hearts Love is its name Cupid aiming his darts Will it be a hit or a miss Will we love each other to bits The hit gives such a high Higher than the highest mountains But the miss It dives deeper Than the deepest oceans Leaving crumbling remains Of a shattered heart And the heavy burden Of an anchored soul Anchored in the high seas With nary another soul In sight or flight With only doom and gloom For company inside As I write So I realise I carry and I feel The pangs of a beaten heart More than a happy one Is that what is special About me and mine That unique ability To have a friend In solitude and celebrate To treasure my torn heart To cherish the gaps and cuts From which pour My feelings in words My art in colours My passion in poetry Maybe it is true What they say Having loved and lost Is better than Not having loved at all Yes I am a romantic that way.